Aria Monreale Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Naples

Alright, mate, lemme tell ya bout whores—dirty, fascinatin business, yeah? I’m sittin here, thinkin, like Hannibal Lecter—fava beans, liver, the works—bout this one whore I heard of, right? Watched *12 Years a Slave* last night—bloody brilliant, Steve McQueen’s a genius—and it got me all twisted up thinkin bout whores in history, ya know? Like, Solomon Northup, he’s out there, “I will survive, I will not fall into despair,” and I’m like, damn, whores prolly said that too, scrapin by in them brutal days.

Interior of Monreale Cathedral, Palermo, Sicily, Italy

Monreale was a place of whispered secrets and veiled laughter. A place where cloistered devotion often masked a far more earthly mischief.

I’m trying to keep it cool, but inside, I’m like, “Dude, what were you thinking?” I radio for help, and while I’m waiting, I’m just standing there, watching the chaos unfold. A couple of kids are playing soccer in the street, and one of ‘em kicks the ball right into a fountain. Water everywhere! I’m laughing, but also thinking, “Great, just what I need. Wet shoes.”

World-renowned cathedral's golden mosaics to be restored to former glory